The Story of Blackhawk
by Sand Torrent
Summary: The son of two assassins is determined to break free of his parents' tyranny and forge his own destiny. An unlikely encounter with Batman leads him to the Team, where all is not as it seems. Will the new member be a true hero, despite his shady past? Or will he prove to be more dangerous than even Young Justice can handle?
1. Chapter 1

Before you get the wrong idea here, I am NOT writing this for my own amusement. In order to warn those of you who have found this letter in the future, I am writing this to detail each of the events that occurred after my...liberation. So that what happened before, doesn't happen again. We need to take a stand, uphold our values. Or else, everything devolves into a cesspool of chaos.

All depressing philosophical statements aside, where should I start? I guess I should start...four years ago, summertime.

My name is James Jacobs. I haven't exactly had a "normal" life, you could say. My parents are two of the best contract killers and assassins on the planet. Collin King is my dad. He's a lean, threatening, and incredibly lethal guy. He is often hired by intelligence agencies and mob bosses to...take care of business, so to speak.

My mom, Linda Jacobs, isn't much better. She's an assassin, and even more skilled than dad in hand-to-hand combat and such. She isn't really as scary-looking, though.

The two of them trained me from the age of three to be the ultimate weapon. They trained me in marksmanship, martial arts, tracking, stealth, endurance, man-hunting, and other such deadly disciplines. Taking on the persona of Blackhawk, I became a vicious killer, and thrived under my parents' tutelage. All until the summer when I turned fourteen...

* * *

I woke up from a mere two hours of sleep, the side of my head still throbbing from the beating that my father had dished out to me the previous night. I lifted myself out of bed and limped downstairs. Our house was huge, so calling it a house isn't really being honest. Mansion is more like it. The newly furnished living room filled with the distinct aroma of my mother's cooking greeted me as I trudged down the stairs.

I immediately took my place at my father's side at the table. I poured myself a glass of milk and began munching into my cereal. My father stared at me with a cruel glint in his black eyes.

"You have a long day of training today. Finish your cereal quickly," Dad stated, his demeanor calm and collected. I did as he told and followed him outside into the backyard. He tossed back a knife without looking, and I caught it by the hilt.

Dad then turned and faced me. "You're going to attack me," he said. "With all the rage, the unchecked power that you've been holding back."

I took a deep breath and spun the knife in my hands. Pushing out any remorse or doubt I had in me, I lunged at my father with the knife, as quick and flexible as a snake. My father grabbed my arm, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground.

Being flipped over like that so quickly left a rather unpleasant sensation in the pit of my stomach. I performed a kip-up to my feet and studied my dad. I then stepped forward, spun, and kicked with my foot coming around in an arc to the side of my dad's head. Dad easily blocked with his forearm and backed away.

"Disappointing," he mused. "All the physical training, all the mental preparation. You're supposed to be the perfect assassin, boy."

I was about to leap at him, but my mother suddenly appeared next to me and blocked my arm. "You two have a job to do," she said. "I just got off the phone with our...contact. He wants a guy dead. The target's name is Bruce Wayne."

* * *

We took a helicopter to Wayne Enterprises. It was Wayne's day schedule, he was at work. Getting in would be easy enough; it was evening, most people were drifting out of the office. I rappelled down from the chopper down several stories, my feet on the windows.

When I reached Bruce Wayne's office, I burst through the window and landed in a barrel roll. Whipping out a jo staff, I expanded it into full form and began choking Wayne with it from behind. Pressing harder with my staff, I was about to neutralize Wayne once and for all.

"We have him, father," I said.

Suddenly, my eyelids began fluttering. A wave of drowsiness swept over me, and I crashed to the ground, succumbing to the cold blackness that followed.

* * *

I woke up in some sort of police interrogation room, the kind you see in the movies. Bruce Wayne sat across from me. I realized my hands were handcuffed behind the chair, and I glared at Wayne.

The philanthropist looked at me calmly. "Quite a stunt you pulled tonight. Fortunate that I had knockout gas emitters installed a couple of months ago," he remarked.

I did not reply.

Bruce leaned forward. "You're in quite a bit of trouble," he continued. "This goes beyond juvenile detention, I hope you know that."

I was already slipping a lockpick from my sleeve. I chose to keep quiet again.

Bruce got up and nodded to the guard. "Take him away," he told the guard before exiting the room.

I wiggled the lockpick in the keyhole of the handcuff. After a few seconds, they came off and fell to the floor with a metallic clank. The guard pulled out a gun on me, but I grabbed the man's arm and twisted it behind his back. With one hand, I handcuffed his arm to the leg of the table and shoved him aside roughly.

I then kicked open the door and ran down the hallway. Two more guards stepped in front of me, but I growled, jumped into the air, and slammed their heads together to knock them out. I rounded a corner to the vault. I was open, and three guards were attempting to move my equipment to a safe location.

I kicked one of them down and slammed another's head into the wall. The last one got off a round, but I rolled to the side and uppercutted him to the chin, sending him slamming into the wall and slumping to the floor. I quickly lockpicked the maximum security locker and retrieved my jo staff, shurikens, and knives.

Suddenly, a shadow alerted me to the presence of a figure behind me. I whipped around to see the Batman standing there, his eyes staring me down. He was quite impressive, but I was going to have to fight him. I twirled my jo staff in my hands and lunged at him, but Batman blocked my advance with his gauntlet.

I immediately spun and kicked at him, and Batman backed away and threw down a smoke pellet. I took out a throwing knife and hurled it where I saw his shadow. I then produced several more and tossed them at him.

He dodged them seamlessly, and I took the time to stab at him with a knife. Batman held my arm and forced me to my knees. I gritted my teeth, rolled forward, and broke free. Spinning around, I threw a knife at an electrical relay box. It exploded, less than a foot away from Batman.

Batman raised his cape to block the sparks, and the Dark Knight crumpled from the generator's fiery explosion that followed. I took the opportunity and turned, leaping out the window and plummeting towards the pavement below.

* * *

My father made me watch the security feeds later that night.

Typing on his keyboard at a quick rate, he tapped into the security footage at WayneTech. I gazed intently at the computer screen. I had executed each move with a superhuman efficiency, fluidity, and accuracy.

Batman himself was parrying and dodging with incredible speed, and my father punched the computer screen as Batman crumpled.

"You failed," Predator said.

I did not reply. I merely nodded to show my agreement.

Predator snarled and grabbed me by the neck. I gasped for air, and my father hurled me into the wall with crushing force. I collapsed to the ground and clutched my throat. My father kicked me in the ribs, and I keeled over from the pain. He then trudged up the stairs, and I shakily got to my feet.

I suppose you could say that was the beginning of my rebellious streak.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days were absolute torture. I was worked day in and day out, and even my heightened physical state was wearing out. Dad wanted to ensure that I never failed again on his watch.

After an intense training session, I sat down on the cool grass of our backyard and wiped sweat off of my brow.

"No sitting," my father said. "Get up, and redo the vault-kick exercise. One hundred more repetitions."

I leaped to my feet and approached the metal bar where I was supposed to do the exercise. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

It wasn't too long before another contract came up. This time, it was a simple sniper's job. I was supposed to dispatch a local Gotham drug dealer, by the name of Lucas Mattel. After reading the preliminary report, I packed my rifle into my backpack, pulled my hood up, and set out.

Exiting the grounds of the mansion, I boarded a bus at the nearest bus stop. The bus driver looked at me warily, but let me in once I paid the due amount. I made my way past a troupe of gangbangers to the back of the bus, where I sat by the window.

The bus driver said something inaudible into the speakers, and began driving. It wasn't long before it started raining. Sheets of water slammed against the roof of the bus, and thick raindrops rolled down the windows, obscuring my view. All other noise was drowned out as thunder resonated through the air.

For most people, these rather unpleasant conditions were bad luck. But for an assassin? This was perfect. The rain would cover my tracks, and the thunder would block out any noise I made.

Once I reached my stop, I stepped out of the bus and walked towards the building whereI was to take the shot from. It was an abandoned office building, so I had no difficulty getting in. I took the stairs to the top floor and set my backpack down. Sighing, I took out the disassembled parts of my sniper rifle and put them together quickly.

Fitting a magazine into the gun, I looked through the scope into the warehouse nearby. Intel reported that this would be the target's location. Several armed guards loitered around. They were obviously untrained and unrefined, judging by their posture and how they were holding their guns.

I then saw a man who fit the target's physical profile. Tall, lean, brown hair, green eyes. After confirming that it was my target, I took a split half-second to calculate the wind and bullet drop before firing.

The bullet sailed through the air and through the man's head. Blood spattered on the pavement as the man hit the ground. The thugs nearby yelled and raised their guns, firing into the darkness.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an unusual red aircraft land at the nearby docks. Three kids stepped out. One was a blonde, lean, muscular girl with a tank top. Another was a fit-looking boy with a mask, stealth suit, and a cape. The third was a strong-looking boy...with the Superman logo on his chest.

I narrowed my eyes. Why did the Justice League send their sidekicks? And how did they respond to the assassination THAT quickly?

I turned and vanished into the shadows, my job done.

* * *

I had just finished relaying the details of the assassination to my father. Another payday was coming up. I included the part about the Justice League intervention.

Dad just nodded. "Not too shabby. But why the hell is the League onto this? This would seem more like a standard police job." He seemed to be in a contemplative state.

Dad then stood up and went outside, into the backyard. I followed suit, my hands in my pockets. "It doesn't add up," I agreed. "Also, how did they respond to the situation so quickly? They got there within a minute of the assassination."

My father raised an eyebrow and turned to me. "Is that right?" He asked.

I nodded in response.

Dad paced around. "Perhaps they were after something else, but the times of operation on both sides collided," he suggested.

I nodded again. That was certainly a possibility. Then, my dad's phone began ringing. He answered it. "Predator."

After a few seconds, he pocketed his phone again. "The client wants us to revisit the place. Apparently, new intel has been received. There are financial records -contracts- that we need to recover. Big payment." He looked down at me with an evil glint. "Even bigger if we receive the payment, track the client, and murder him. That way, all the financial records we retrieve are ours to keep."

I forced a sadistic smile out to appease my father. "That sounds good."

Dad nodded. "Then you and I will revisit the warehouse tomorrow night. Get some rest." He tossed me a bottle of water, which I took a swig out of.

I then made my way up the stairs to my bedroom, the moonlight ominously casting shadows over me as I lay down.

* * *

The next evening, my mother made her signature steak and potatoes. After wolfing down the food, I meditated for an hour or so.

In the middle of my meditation, my father grabbed my shoulder. I immediately got up and looked up at him. "Is it time?" I asked.

My mother suddenly appeared next to me and smirked. "I'm coming with you two. It certainly beats hanging around this depressing house all day."

Predator nodded and led me off to fetch my equipment. Another long night, as usual.

* * *

My father was in sniping position, at a safe distance. I was upfront and personal, inside the warehouse. My mother was at my side, dressed in a blue bodysuit. A mask covered only her eyes.

"Check the adjacent room," she told me. "I'll cover the hallway."

I obliged and kicked down a wooden door, scanning the area. The room was practically empty, except for a cabinet on the opposite wall. I opened up the cabinet, which revealed nothing but a pistol and a few cigarettes.

I turned and walked back to my mother. She crossed her arms. "Well?" She inquired.

"Nothing," I replied. "Just a few cigarettes and a pistol. Nothing we can use to locate the financial documents."

My mother nodded and relayed our status to Dad over her comm.

Then, a bullet shattered a nearby window, and blood spattered over my chest.

* * *

**Hey guys!**

**Thank you for your positive comments for my story!**

**-to damnation soldier: Hi! Well, the reason for them having a big house is the fact that being a good contract killer can...well, bring a lot of money. Add the incomes of two extremely skilled professionals, and you get quite the amount of money. At-least, that is my reasoning, please feel free to correct me if my logic is flawed. ;)**

**Hope y'all enjoyed the newest chapter in this installment, and stay tuned for more!**


End file.
